


Blue on Black

by rsharpe



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV) ATF Modern AU
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsharpe/pseuds/rsharpe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The anniversary of the death of Chris' wife and son usually results in Chris being alone . . . except for a bottle or two.  Tonight, things change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue on Black

Riley's wasn't a trendy bar. Nor was it particularly crowded or noisy. Just a neighborhood corner bar conveniently located near some of the larger office buildings in downtown Denver. The crowd here seemed to be at its peak at about 6:00 p.m., after work and before the commute home for most of the business-suited men and women downing their drinks and getting in the last flirtatious comments of the day.

If any of them noticed the man seated at the far corner of the bar at all, it wasn't for long. He wasn't one of them and he sure as hell wasn't being sociable. He was, however, doing some serious drinking.

When the roughly handsome man stalked into the watering hole and claimed his personal space, the jaded bartender was impressed. The blond with the devastating green eyes sat on the last chair in the far corner, isolated but facing the door. The discarded coat and tie lay across the back of the chair but the air of authority he wore remained.

Chris Larabee had entered the bar with two purposes in mind--to be left the hell alone and to get stinking drunk. So far he had accomplished the first one with no trouble. The second evaded him as it always did on the eve of the anniversary of the deaths of Sarah and Adam.

He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment when the bartender sauntered over to see if he wanted yet another drink.

Patrick Dennison had mixed drinks and observed life from his post behind the solid wood bar of the old building for a little over four years. He had always practiced being nothing more than a casual observer of his patrons. But tonight his thoughts were anything but casual.

God, the man was attractive! Definitely straight, probably a drunk and certainly trouble just waiting to happen, but very, very tempting.

Except for the fact that Dennison had poured another two fingers of whiskey for him, Chris didn't even know the man existed. The first two shots had made it to his empty stomach and the third one was on its way now. He caressed the fourth glass in anticipation of the soothing sting.

He had known this was coming weeks ago. Didn't have to have a damm calendar to know. Didn't have to see Buck watching him cautiously out of the corner of his eye when he thought he wasn't looking. Didn't have to hear the water-cooler conversations lower to a hush when he passed, only to begin to hum a little louder when the workers in the Federal Building thought he was out of hearing range.

This anniversary was different from the ones he'd experienced before. He didn't want to be alone when the day arrived. Oh, he'd be drunk by then, he had hoped, just like all the others. But he didn't want to be alone. Only he didn't know what to do about being with the person he wanted-needed-to see him through this yearly hell. He'd met him a little over ten months ago. Worked with him side by side daily ever since. Sat beside him at meetings, in surveillance vans, at bars. Wanted to kiss him, hold him, take him... since the first day.

Chris Larabee's first sight of Vin Tanner had hit him as hard and sweet as a shot of cocaine.

 

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Vin Tanner exited the double glass doors of the Federal Building with a sense of urgency. He took a moment to orient himself to the crowded sidewalk and the blast of noise from the bumper to bumper traffic of rush hour in downtown Denver.

Easily slipping back into the habits of the bounty hunter he had once been and the elite unit's crack sharpshooter he was now, Vin paused to gain a sense of direction his prey might have taken.

After the months that he and Chris had spent together working in the office and in the field on assignments and the many nights sharing drinks and swapping war stories, he had an idea of where his best friend might have gone to ground.

Buck Wilmington was the only member of Team Seven who had known Chris during the time before the tragedy that had shattered his life. Buck had grudgingly supplied Vin with bits of information about Chris and his likely reaction to the upcoming anniversary of his tragic loss. Buck and Chris had been closer than brothers for over ten years but they'd lost some of their deep friendship when Sarah and Adam died. Then Vin Tanner came along and things slowly began to change. Buck didn't think that the Chris Larabee he'd known would ever return but the Chris who for whatever reason had reluctantly connected with Vin was more like the old friend Buck had treasured than he'd been in three years.

Vin knew that Buck had been deeply wounded at first when Chris began seeking his company out in the evenings after work. He and Buck had almost come to blows at least once over what Buck perceived as Chris's preference for the quiet sharpshooter.

Josiah and Nathan had intervened and, while Nathan walked Vin out of the building and around the block a few times, Josiah spoke softly and steadily until Buck finally listened to the bottom line. It didn't matter who it was, what it was or why Vin's presence calmed Chris and brought him closer to the man he had been. All that mattered was that it was happening.

Buck had apologized, Vin had accepted and Chris never even knew there had almost been a fistfight over the privilege of taking the position of honor at his side during a raid or a drinking bout.

Now that the eve of the anniversary had arrived, Chris seemed to be following the pattern of behavior Buck had predicted.

Vin ran both hands through his hair, thinking through the locations of the closest bars that Chris could have easily walked to. He knew that Chris was on foot. The first place he had checked was the parking garage and he'd found the large black truck still in place.

Chris had stormed out of the office, slamming his door in Buck's face so hard that the other five members of Team Seven had jumped out of their chairs. Buck had been attempting to talk Chris into quitting for the day and going out for something to eat. He'd noticed that Chris had skipped lunch completely, remaining at his computer and hammering out a report as if he were firing a gun instead of using a keyboard.

Buck had just been the unlucky recipient of Chris's most recent outburst this week. They'd all known it was coming, seen it happening but were powerless to stop it and now with Chris probably in a bar and drinking on an empty stomach-well, there'd be hell to pay for somebody before the night was over.

Vin immediately rejected three of the five closest bars as being regularly frequented by groups that were too boisterous or too trendy. He narrowed the choices to The Domino Club or Riley's.

On a hunch that Chris would gravitate towards the smaller bar, he turned to the left and walked three blocks to Westin Avenue. Turning right at the corner, he passed the stained glass window set into the dark wood of the façade and pushed open the heavy oak doors with brass fittings.

Vin nodded slightly to himself in satisfaction at his success on the first try. Chris Larabee was at the end of the bar. His dark gray suit coat was thrown carelessly over the back of the chair with the conservative tie draped across it. Chris had undone the top two buttons of his spotless white dress shirt. He was resting his elbows on the bar, shirtsleeves pushed up, one elegant hand holding a glass of whiskey. He'd been there long enough to have carved out a respectful little island of privacy in the otherwise noisy bar.

Chris's head was inclined slightly, eyes scanning the amber liquid for answers to questions that had no answers. The track lighting highlighted his dark gold hair and his handsome, pain-ravaged face.

Vin Tanner thought he looked like a fallen angel.

 

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"Well, I found him. Now what the hell am I gonna do with him?"

Chris didn't notice Vin enter the bar right away since his attention was centered on the contents of the glass he held as reverently as a priest cupped a chalice, swirling the contents occasionally to observe the wavering faint illumination from the lighting over the bar but the bartender had noted Vin's entrance and his subsequent hesitant approach with acute interest.

My, my, my! Another good-looking man with a decidedly dangerous air about him.

And not surprisingly, he was headed towards the first man whose presence had been making Patrick's mouth water for the last hour or so.

Vin swung gracefully onto the barstool beside Chris and shrugged out of his leather jacket, letting it fall casually across the high back of the chair. When Dennison smiled and greeted the newcomer who had so boldly joined the first man, his drink order was simple and to the point.

"Beer."

Patrick Dennison didn't bother to ask the particulars of the second man's request. He instinctively knew that the brand, type of container, import or domestic didn't matter. The younger man with the long hair and slim, athletic build, possibly of a male model or just someone who took keeping in shape fairly seriously, probably wouldn't have noticed if he'd been served bottled water. His focus was on the intense blond who had been drinking steadily with his attention only on getting his glass filled, emptied and filled again.

Vin nodded his head in thanks for the glass of frothing liquid and sipped it gratefully. He had no idea how Chris was going to react to his presence after having let not just their floor, but the entire building know, loudly and in quite colorful terms, that he didn't want company of any kind.

Outwardly, Chris didn't acknowledge Vin's appearance beside him. Inwardly, the hard, black knot of rage he'd been fighting for days began seeking an outlet. If it had been Buck who had followed him to the bar he would have reacted immediately and predictably, but it was Vin who had sought him out and now leaned on the bar quietly enjoying his drink.

Buck, his oldest friend and Vin, his newest were literally as different as night and day. While Buck had as Vin once put it, learned to whisper in a sawmill and also made up in quantity what he sometimes lacked in quality; his heart was in the right place and he'd always been there for Chris but damm the man! Buck should have come equipped with an on/off switch and a volume control. But even as Chris considered saying things he knew he didn't mean and would only regret later, he found he had somehow become eerily calmed by Vin's quiet presence beside him. He'd joined Chris 15 or 20 minutes ago and hadn't said a word. Just sat beside him, sipping a beer and occasionally looking around the room, watching the interaction of couples and pals as they drank and chatted.

It wasn't Vin's style to push and it occurred to Chris that Vin's intent was to wait until Chris decided his next move. If Chris wanted to sit at this bar and drink himself into unconsciousness, then Vin would be there to pick him up. Or if he wanted to leave this particular establishment and move on to another... and another, Vin would accompany him. As he considered his options, Chris wondered just for a minute what Vin's reaction would be if Chris picked out a random target from the men in the crowd and started swinging. With a sense of deep gratitude and understanding, Chris knew that even then Vin would back him up. The knowledge that no matter how ugly his behavior, how shit-faced he became or how big a son of a bitch he might be to Vin, it didn't matter. They were friends.

Along with a surge of gratitude that brought rare moisture to his tired eyes, came an almost immobilizing sense of guilt. Would Vin feel the same way if he knew the feelings that Chris couldn't even admit to himself?

 

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After another ten minutes or more had passed with Vin still patiently working on the original beer, Chris came to a decision... one that surprised him almost as much as his subsequent actions with their implications surprised Vin.

Larabee reached into his front pants pocket and retrieved the key ring to the truck and the ranchhouse. He placed the keys gently on the bar and slid the ring slowly and unobtrusively over to his partner. Chris couldn't bring himself to ask for help but, since actions supposedly spoke louder than words... well, it was up to Vin now to determine what tonight might bring.

Vin palmed the keys to the big Dodge as calmly and carefully as if he were dealing with a half-wild animal - no sudden moves, no exclamation of surprise, no outward acknowledgment of the action except a quick nod of confirmation in Larabee's direction.

"Ya gonna finish that beer, Tanner?"

"Nope."

As soon as Vin answered the rhetorical question, Chris took three bills out of his money clip to more than cover his drinks, Vin's beer and a nice tip for the man behind the bar, who kept the liquor coming up and didn't hover over him.

Neither man waited for Dennison to retrieve the money or the glasses and yet again neither man even looked at Dennison as Tanner donned his leather jacket and waited for Larabee to shrug into his coat and unconcernedly stuff the expensive Italian silk tie casually into a pocket.

Ignoring a couple of customers who never tipped anyway and were unattractive at best, Dennison watched both men move gracefully through the thinning crowd to the heavy doors and Patrick would have gladly observed their progress down the sidewalk until they were out of sight if it had been possible.

He settled for a quiet sigh of longing, then turned and beamed at the older lady with flawlessly made up skin and a very expensive hairstyle who had obviously just come form her weekly salon visit. She sure couldn't make up for the two that had gotten away but she was very nice and she tipped well... and as an extra added attraction she loved to gossip about who was doing what and who they were doing it with so the night wasn't a complete loss and perhaps those same two men would decide that Riley's was a good spot to hang out at occasionally. He could only hope.

Dennison turned his full charm and not in-considerable talents on the older woman while he mixed her martini and tried to settle down the raging hormones that the blonde who looked as if he was the more dangerous of the two had set in motion. That is, until the longhaired slimmer man had poured his long legs onto the barstool.

With hopes of nights to come, Patrick Dennison prepared to serve several martinis to one of Denver's society matrons, listen attentively, and end the evening with enough tips to really, really party afterwards. And after tonight he was off for two days. Wonder if those two worked in one of the huge office buildings near Riley's.

Naw, Patrick, he scolded himself. They were with each other whether they knew it or not. And what fun they would have when they finally figured it out...

\- end -

**Author's Note:**

> The song Blue on Black is from the CD "Trouble Is", written by Kenny Wayne Shepherd/Mark Selby/Tia Sillers, copyright Music Corporation of America. Lyrics used without permission, naturally... I am soooo bad.
> 
>  
> 
> Night falls, I'm alone  
> Skin chilled to the bone  
> You turned and you ran  
> Slipped right from my hands
> 
> Blue on black  
> Tears on a river  
> Push on shove  
> Don't mean much  
> Joker on Jack  
> Match on a fire  
> Cold on ice  
> A deadman's touch  
> Whisper on a scream  
> Doesn't mean a thing  
> Won't bring you back  
> Blue on black
> 
> Blind, now I see  
> Truth, lies and in-between  
> Wrong can't be undone  
> Slipped from the tip of my tongue
> 
> Blue on black  
> Tears on a river  
> Push on shove  
> It don't mean much  
> Joker on jack  
> Match on a fire  
> Cold on ice  
> It's a deadman's touch  
> Whispers on a scream  
> Doesn't mean a thing  
> Doesn't bring you back  
> Blue on black


End file.
